


And I could be enough, and we could be enough, that would be enough.

by Yowzahhowzah



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Short, everything you can name, just them being otp, one shots, things i imagine when I'm bored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yowzahhowzah/pseuds/Yowzahhowzah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots of River and the Doctor being, well, River and the Doctor.</p><p>latest: First kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lord in his kindness, He gives me more time.

**Author's Note:**

> One shots of River and the Doctor being, well, River and the Doctor.
> 
> Most of them are short because I wrote them on the way back home from school.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy them, I'll update whenever I can.
> 
> p.s. title from Hamilton because that musical is currently my life. Highly recommend it, 10 out of 10.

The thought burns him as he sleeps next to her.  
  
_"It's like loving the stars themselves."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"You don't expect a sunset to admire you back"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"He is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing here with me!"_ _  
_  
He cringes at the thought.  
  
She comforts him by saying it's only to stall time, a stalling tactic that she does so well.  
  
But he knows it's _not_ .  
  
After so many years how could he not know, when she is lying, when she is hiding the damage.  
  
Bow tie was a bloody moronic pillock who was too absorbed in the mystery that shrouded her to see. But now he's older. He's had a million years to replay every moment they had together. He knows by heart every emotion she has, what every tilt of her lips mean, what every movement of her brow implies. And now he knows, _when_ she is hiding the damage.  
  
The stalling tactic thing is true, _yes_ , she was just stalling until the meteor strike because her beautifully brilliant brain turns and twists so quickly she made a connection between the ship and the time in a matter of seconds. His brilliant wife.  
  
But, he knows, from the emotion, the rigour in which she delivered her speech. He knows that she was amplifying her fears, of maybe, _just maybe_ -  
  
His feels his heart sink in his chest and it's making it hard to breathe. He closes his eyes and count to three until his heart stops attacking his ribcage.  
  
_Maybe_ , he didn't love her, maybe all of this was a ruse, a trick, a dream that her desperate heart conjured to comfort her hurting heart, to help her pretend that her sacrifices for him was worth it, and that she wasn't just blindly falling for a man who didn't love her.  
  
He stares at her serenely sleeping face. She is snuggled against him, her head to his chest. She always sleeps like this in the TARDIS, and he always thought it had something to do with her listening to his heartbeats, either to calm her down, or to ensure that he was real and with her in their bed.  
  
_Oh, River._   
  
Her curls are splayed all across her pillow, some strayed tickling his chest, some taking flight due to her small huffs and sighs bringing them to life. Her hair as wild and free as her personality, as soft and lovely as she is.  
  
All tough and strong on the outside, insecure and sad on the inside because of her stupid, moronic, cowardly husband who isn't brave enough to say the words.  
  
It stops now.  
  
He'll make sure she will never for one second doubt his affection to her, never for once think he'll won't be by her side, never ever will she think he doesn't love her.  
  
His wee psychopath, unsure of his love for her but still willing to give her hearts to him. He brushes her curls away from her forehead and kisses it.  
  
She stirs in her sleep, and lazily opens her eyes.  
  
He smiles at her, planting another kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, dear."  
  
She glares at him sleepily, and grumbles under her breath. "It's too early. Go back to sleep, my love." She closes her eyes again and she sounds so much like a petulant child, the doctor can't help but laugh.  
  
"River, dear, it's morning."  
  
"No, it's not." She mumbles.  
  
He sighs fondly, "Yes, it is,dear."  
  
She mumbles something incoherent.  
  
He sighs again and leans closer to her and whispers in her ear, "I love you."  
  
She doesn't say anything, but he feels her smirk on his chest and he knows, maybe, just maybe, he could make it up to her in the next 24 years.  
  
He kisses her hair and breathes it in. Time, musk, and an unmistakable scent that River seems to carry everywhere she goes. He takes one last look at his bedridden wife, and snuggles closer to her.

 

He will show her, he swears to the gods, he will show her that both his hearts are hers and hers _completely_ , and that no one, _no one living thing_ is worth her.

 

He'll show her, however long it takes, because what they have, is _time_ .


	2. The world has no right to my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really shouldn't have turned out this way.
> 
> He thinks numbly as he looks emotionlessly at the crash. 
> 
> Fire ablaze, the wreckage cackling and groaning from the heat. Somewhere big chunks of metal from the ship are falling down, creating a thud, sending ashes flying. The air is pungent and choking with smoke.
> 
> He doesn't care.
> 
> Not when she is safe and sound in the TARDIS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the quote: "No one living thing is worth you." Twelve & River
> 
> I twisted the quote until it became very dark, sorry guys, told you there would be angst.
> 
> There are a few (?) swear words in it and a not very graphic depiction of shootings, but just a forewarning to anyone who might find it triggering.
> 
> Title from, you guessed it, Hamilton the Musical.

It really shouldn't have turned out this way.  
  
He thinks numbly as he looks emotionlessly at the crash.  
  
Fire ablaze, the wreckage cackling and groaning from the heat. Somewhere big chunks of metal from the ship are falling down, creating a thud, sending ashes flying. The air is pungent and choking with smoke.  
  
He doesn't care.  
  
Not when she is safe and sound in the TARDIS.  
  
He laughs at the air, the sound weird and out of place as burnt corpses litter the ground before him.  
  
He even breathes in the smell of the burning flesh.  
  
-

 

It was supposed to be a date night.  
  
They were at this fancy restaurant, eating and chatting and having a lovely time until they came.  
  
He can still hear the screams if he closed his eyes.  
  
They came through the wall, the bandits, and the whole restaurant erupted into pandemonium. A shower of shots were fired, from the guards and the bandits and -  
  
It really doesn't matter, bodies fell to the floor with a thud.  
  
But River, oh his precious wife. His infuriatingly human wife, she tried to stop the gunfire, of course she did, she tried to save the passengers on the ship.  
  
But then, of course, it was no use. People died anyway and River -  
  
He feels the fear and panic rising once again and he needs to reassure himself that she's safe. In the TARDIS. In their bed.  
  
River braved a bullet for him.  
  
It was so fast he didn't even register it happening until he heard a thud right in front of him. Everything was happening in slow motion. He sees her fall to the ground and a scream rises like bile in his throat.  
  
_No._  
  
She falls to the ground and clutches her midriff before she curls up into a ball.  
  
He is immediately by her side. He crouched down and turns her body to survey the damage. The bullet entered just above her hip, blood is already seeping through her fingers and running down her evening gown. She groans and her eyes are fluttering shut.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
He scoops her up from the floor, and hides from the gunfire behind one of the tables, while he kisses her forehead and murmurs words of encouragement. They need to get to the TARDIS. Fast.  
  
"River, please, please, wake up dear, eh?"  
  
He repeats it like a mantra, a prayer to whatever Gods above that she doesn't die here. Time can be rewritten. Him out of all people should know better.  
  
River, his darling River, oh, she tried so hard to stay awake, so very, very hard. She tried to pry her eyes open, she even fucking smiles at him. But he feels her body shaking from the effort of doing so and suddenly she goes limp in his hands and he knows he needs to get to the TARDIS. Right. Now.  
  
He gets up from the floor and -  
  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
  
One of the bandits cocks his gun at him, a Ranoflax, a blue humanoid creature with antennas coming out from the edge of his mouth, dressed like what humans would say - a "pirate".  
  
The doctor freezes, his heartbeats louder than the ongoing shower of shots zinging past him, louder than the screams of the fellow passengers.  
  
"Look," the bandit says with a sing-song voice "Is your dolly hurt?" He points his gun and River. The Doctor feels his blood boiling in his veins.  
  
"Shut up if you know what is good for you." Growling through his teeth.  
  
The bandit dramatically pouts, and continues to pretend to pity the Doctor, "And what could you do," he glares at the doctor and spits the words out, "grandpa?"  
  
He is about to spit a witty retort that would fly over this bloody arseholes idiotic head, when he feels her pulse stop.  
  
He almost mistakes it as his hearts stopping.  
  
He shakes her as if to make sure, as if it would restart her heart. He knows it's futile but it's the only thing he could do when such immense panic is clouding his brain.  
  
"River, c'mon don't do this to me, c'mon not here -"  
  
The arsehole must have heard the desperate edge in his voice, because he straight up laughs at his face. If glares could kill, the Doctor's glare would've exploded the man into a million pieces until his organs were splattered on the wall.  
  
The bandit stops laughing and stalks closer to the Doctor. The Doctor visibly tenses up.  
  
"Whad'ya say, old man. Should I end your misery so that you'll be with your dolly?" He pretends to think with his free hand, tapping his chin. "I'll be generous and do just that." He cocks his gun right at the Doctor's face, just a few frets ahead of him, squinting in focus.  
  
"And would you be so generous," the doctor spits the words out like venom, "to let me put my wife," The fucking bastard's eyes light up. He'll be sure it doesn't in a few seconds. "Down." He looks the bastard right in the eye and tries his best to pretend to plea, "I don't want to drop her."  
  
The bandit looks suspicious for a second before he cocks his head up, and points the gun with more rigour.  
  
"Fine, but no fishy moves, grandpa."  
  
The Doctor lowers River's now already slightly cold body on the floor, in an angle that would cause his sonic screwdriver to fall out of his breast pocket, and as he lays her body, he catches the screwdriver, mid-air and points it to the electric box he noticed at the end of the room. Sparks fly and the box explodes, and the bastard is momentarily occupied as he turns his head to see what had happened. The Doctor grabs his gun from his faltering grip and shoots it straight into his head.  
  
Then, everything happens in slow motion.  
  
_Five._  
  
He scoops up her lifeless body from the floor .The other bandits are still momentarily stunned from the explosion, but some notice their fallen friend.  
  
_Four._  
  
The Doctor runs for the corridor. The TARDIS is just at the end of it. One of the bandits shouts to the others, and he hears footsteps following his. They're chasing him. They won't be much longer.  
  
_Three._  
  
He's a little past the opening of the corridor. He feels the gunshots zinging above his hair and one that scratched his arm. But he doesn't have the time to look: he hears the shouts of the bandits right behind him.  
  
_Two._  
  
He runs past some panicking passengers who get shot down. He knows what he's doing, and he won't regret it. Not a bit.  
  
_One._  
  
The TARDIS is right in front of him. She flings her doors open.  
  
_Zero._  
  
He jumps into the TARDIS, and barely registers the deafening boom and the heat from the explosion before the TARDIS closes her doors.  
  
-  
  
When she wakes up, she'll blame him for wasting his regenerative energy on her and comfort him from the regret she thinks he'll feel.  
  
The flames are burning out, and everything is burnt black and turning into ashes.  
  
She thinks he's a good man, she thinks he's a saviour, that he'll save anyone that he can, that he cares for every stranger and every being he crosses paths with.  
  
She doesn't realise that she and him are the _same_.  
  
He doesn't care about anyone but the people he loves and cares about.  
  
Now without Amy and Rory, he only cares about her, and her alone.  
  
He takes one last look at the burning wreckage before he puts his hands into his pocket and walks back to the TARDIS.

  
And no one, _no living being_ in this universe, is worth _her_.


	3. Someday, someday, you will blow us all away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had wrapped his hearts around her tiny little fingers since he first heard her cry.
> 
> Cute and fluffy in contrast to the previous one :)))))))

She had wrapped his hearts around her tiny little fingers since he first heard her cry.   
  
He's never heard a cry as sweet as hers.   
  
The midwives put her on River's chest, she squirms and wiggles, shrieking out her lungs, as the nurses try to clean her up.   
  
_ The world is too bright, too loud, isn't it, little one? _ _   
_   
He see tears welling up in River's eyes and his sight blurring with his own.   
  
He realises someone is calling him, asking if he wants to hold his child. He numbly nods. Then, a little squirming bundle is placed in his hands, with little green eyes and a little flat nose and a little whiff of blonde curls on the top of her head, a little fist pumping up and down.    
  
He greets his daughter.  _ Oh god _ , his  _ daughter _ . He feels more tears come to his eyes. He hasn't held his offsprings for so, so long. He had almost forgotten how full and happy it made him feel. He feels like his hearts are about to burst, and that he would melt at every bat of her eyelashes, and regenerate whenever she looked at him with such innocent emerald green eyes.   
  
And he thought he was so smart.   
  
He can already see it, the timelines unfolding in front of his eyes: the little baby in his arms, just a few seconds old, will one day save the universe, save civilisations from extinction, protect the good and fight the bad, and in return, the universe will thank her: her name will be spread from Galaxy to Galaxy, she'll be given magnificent aliases and stories that will give hope to generations and generations to come and she will be welcomed on to every planet she steps foot on - like her mother and father before her.    
  
Of course, there will be enemies, people who want her head on a platter, who don't agree with her actions and her words -  _ again _ , like her parents before her. But she won't be put down, she'll rise up from the ashes, she'll heal, she'll  __ regenerate , and she won't back down until the universe is safe and sound.

  
She will be a superhero, like her mother before her, and she'll blow everyone away.  
  
He kisses his daughter's forehead.  
  
 _Look out universe, she'll blow us all away._   
  



	4. The world was wide enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never stayed.
> 
> Not even when he begged her, pleaded with her, basically was on his knees to ask her not to go.
> 
> She eventually did.
> 
> Every. Single. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Back to angst now whoops. Sorry not sorry.

She never stayed.   
  
Not even when he begged her, pleaded with her, basically was  _ on his knees _ to ask her not to go.   
  
She eventually did.   
  
_ Every. Single. Time _ _   
_   
_ "One psychopath per TARDIS, don't you think?" _ _   
_   
He recoils at the thought.   
  
He should've begged harder, pleaded more, ask her to never ever leave again. ( _ Because you might never come back, River. _ )   
  
Of course, River being  _ River _ , she always found some excuse to wrench herself away from his grip, or distract him so he'll let her go, or just slip away in the night.   
  
And she says  _ he _ is the one who's always leaving.   
  
Well, this is what that got him. Alone, frustrated, and so,  _ so _ angry with himself for being such a coward, so useless and dumb that he couldn't even stop his wife from leaving him, from going to the library, from going to her  _ death _ .   
  
What "ongoing storm", "timelord victorious" or "saviour"? He can't even save his own wife from certain doom. He can't even do anything but grieve and hope that his darling wife could save herself, like so many times before.   
  
River didn't need him, she never did, and never will, especially when he was being such a useless husband.   
  
He didn't realise he was crying until he felt wetness on his cheeks.   
  
_ He didn't even get to say goodbye. _ _   
_   
The thought fills him with rage, and he stands up from his seat and kicks the console as hard as he can, he punches and stabs and hits and pushes and vents all his rage onto the TARDIS.    
  
The TARDIS hums. In pain  _ and _ in pity.   
  
And when he is finished, he feels as though his insides had been scooped out, leaving him empty and a shell of a man he had once been, only his frantically beating heart is left to remind him of his unadulterated love for this woman who was convinced that the universe wasn't big enough to contain the both of them.   
  
_ Well, she was wrong. _ _   
_ _   
_ The world was wide enough for  _ both _ River and him.   
  
Just as the TARDIS was big enough to fit two psychopaths on board.   
  
But now, with only one left.   
  
The lonely timelord thought the world was too wide and too vast for just him and  _ him _ alone.   
  
__ Again .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me comments and kudos if you liked it! I'll try to reply to them as soon as I can :)


	5. How to love a god: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay away from him.  
> Legends are never boys.  
> Gods were never people.  
> Gods do not love.  
> \- How to love a god  
> By: Natalie Wee// Patroclus Dreaming (via tumblr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised I had all these finished stories that hadn't been posted yet. So here they are!
> 
> Part I: River is fresh from the events of Let's Kill Hitler and has some doubts about her relationship with the Doctor.

_Stay away from him._

Her mind tells her as they circle around each other like lions waiting to fight.

His face is smug but she can see the fear and panic in his eyes.

So. This is the legend they told her about.

The monster. The mass murderer. The valeyard.

How can something so terrible wear a face so young and innocent?

They tell her, “He must be stopped. He is the reason your life is so miserable. He is the reason that your parents left you. He is the God who plays with humans toys until he’s bored and grown old of them, leaving them battered and bruised and torn to pieces. 

_ Dead.” _

She feels for the gun in the fruit bowl, and when she touches the handle, she whips it out and cocks it at his face.

He outright grins at her.

She furrows her brows - who laughs in the face of a gun? He’s a timelord that doesn't mean he won't die when she shoots him or, maybe he really is just as insane and powerful as they said he was, or -

_ Oh. _

She looks at the object gripped in her hand.

No wonder she couldn't find the trigger.

She glares at her prey. 

His eyes are twinkling with mischief and _“oh look, I'm so smart, I just outsmarted the psychopath that was sent to kill me!”_

This is most definitely harder than she thought it would be.

-

“Is he worth it?”

She looks at the dead timelord on the marble steps. 

She thought she would be so happy when she had done it, because it would mean she fulfilled her life mission, that she was free, and that she can turn back from this and live a normal life with her parents.

But, the only thing she feels is … Sadness. She thought it would be freeing but now it feels like lead flowing through her veins, pulling her down. Like stones strapped around her ankles, like the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders.

Blood of another man. Just one, out of so hundreds and thousands of others.

It shouldn't feel so dirty on her but _it does._

And when she lets her energy flow into him, she doesn't spend any time admiring the fantastic light show, but his whispered words reverberating in her brain. So when he wakes up with a startled gasp, the only thing she can think of is his lips on hers, and she leans in.

-

But the more she thinks about it, the more it doesn't make sense.

She thinks as she's lying on her hospital bed, covers tucked to her chin. 

When she woke up the second time, they weren't here, just a bland white room staring back at her, mocking her. 

_ “You think he really meant it?” _

She hears a voice in her mind say.

_ “You think he would fall in love with his murderer, a weapon trained from birth to kill him?” _

She tries to deny it because she has proof, strong proof but -

She looks at the TARDIS blue notebook on the table next to her bed, it has a bright red ribbon wrapped around it, like a gift and stands out from the white walls that surround her.

Well, he’s gone. 

She burrows deeper into her covers, finding warmth.

Maybe it was a ruse to trick her into giving up her lives for him like the manipulator he has always -

No.

She's seen him in person and he cares so much about people, and he'd said his last words with such conviction and love and -

But maybe she was just imagining it, maybe she was desperate that someone in this world would finally love her and -

She closes her eyes and hopes that the TARDIS arriving will be the sound that wakes her up.

-

The white wall looks more menacing than ever.

After days and days of cat nurses running in and out of her room, many days of pill swallowing and just plain waiting. She had had enough.

She was wrong.

She was delusional, too human. 

Too like her parents.

So sure that he’ll come for them. Always.

But she's _not_ a Pond.

She's River Song.

And as she walks out of the hospital doors, into the big, green grass fields of new, New York. She bares her teeth against the world and she steels herself against the drift that blows her hair into her face.

She's just a mere mortal to a lonesome God like him.

And Gods don’t fall in love with psychopaths like her.


	6. How to love a god: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> despise him. who does he   
> think he is? the proud jaw,  
> those seaborne arms,   
> fleeting sparrow-feet   
> planted on the earth as if   
> the world belonged to him?  
> \- How to love a god  
> By: Natalie Wee// Patroclus Dreaming (via tumblr)

She is starting to regret saving him.

 

He’s behind the bar table, serving drinks and thinking that she can't see him peek glances at her and her date.

 

She can.

 

He tries not to show his disgust when she snogs her date and tries not to show his anger when her date gets slightly drunk and tries to feel her up.

 

Emphasis on “try”, because he’s failing horrendously.

 

Her date is a boy she met in her classes. He was adorable and cute and awkward but in just the right way. He had glasses that would constantly slide off his flat nose and beautiful green eyes, plus his lanky, tall frame - she knew she had to ask him out. 

 

Said boy was now trickling his fingers on her thighs, playing with the hem of her short and clingy dress, the alcohol must have boosted his bravery because he would be too shy and awkward to do so if he was sober.

 

The Doctor is cleaning shot cups at the bar table, eyeing the boy’s hand and grimacing.

And River having quite enough of him for the night (and because she was feeling brave - she blames it on the alcohol), she leaves her date at the table, a quick kiss on the cheeks as a preview for the night and stomps her way to the bar.

 

The Doctor is far too absorbed at glaring at the poor boy to see her coming, and when she slams her fist on the table, he visibly jumps, almost dropping the glass cup.

 

“R-river! I -”

 

“What the hell are you doing here.”

 

It's not a question, it's a demand for an explanation.

 

“I-I'm a bartender now.” He raises his chin and puffs out his chest as if that would convince her that he really is a bar tender.

 

“And since when did you tend to,” she gestured to her surroundings with a limp hand, “bars?” 

 

“Since, uh -” 

 

She lets out an exasperated sigh and leans on the bar table and pokes his chest, and in a sure voice - “You were spying on me.” 

 

He lets out the most dramatic gasp ever, and covers his hearts with his hand, “No I wasn't -”

 

“Yes you were.” She stares up at his eyes, old and young and green and grey and deep and mesmerising and -

 

“No, I wasn't! I don't know where you got this most ridiculous notion-” 

 

He rambles on and on and on, but the only thing she’s hearing is the erratic beating of her hearts and she can't let herself give in to falling in -

 

She doesn't even want to finish the sentence.

 

She hates him.

 

Yes.

 

She hates him and even if she loves him in the future, she won't let him ruin a date night for her. She's young and single and at the very start of her free life and she doesn't need to be tied down by some stupid man who thinks he’s a God and convince her to swagger away into the TARDIS just like her parents did.

 

So. She gets angry instead.

 

“Ridiculous?” She screeches, the other customers are starting to turn their head at the commotion, “I'm not the one who’s ridiculous, you are.” She jabs her finger at the Doctor, who steps back as if scared that her finger would do damage to him. “You’ve been trying to stalk and spy on me on every one of my dates ever since I started my doctorate." She spits in his face, his expression looking more and more like a kicked puppy as she continues, "I don't need anyone to tie me down, not now, not in forever, and if you think," the "k" pronounced so harshly, it sounded like scraping sandpaper, "that you," she pushes herself higher upon the table, her feet tiptoeing on the wooden floor, "can take that away from me," their faces are inches apart, so close that she could almost feel his stuttering breath and she's staring right into his emerald-grey eyes with rage sparkling in her gaze -

 

"Then you've got another thing coming for you, sweetie." 

 

The endearment doesn't sound sweet on her tongue, it sounds forced and bitter and everything an endearment shouldn't be.

 

Her chest is heaving and her breath is shaky, and her hands tremble with the emotion and rage. She lowers herself back on to the floor and suddenly feels tens of eyes staring at her, like arrows stinging her back. The bar is completely silent except for her heavy breaths and the now-loudening  discussion about what just happened. But she spares no glance for the fellow customers, instead, her eyes are focused on the Doctor who is staring at the floor with wide, sad eyes, wringing his hands like a boy put on time out.

 

He keeps silent for a long while, and just as when she thinks he's not going to speak to her anymore, turning to get back to be her date, he speaks behind her.

 

"Then why does your date look like me?"

 

She pauses, and the sudden realisation hits her.

 

Eyes widening, she turns back to face the Doctor.

 

But he was gone. 

 

No one was behind the bar table, just a clean shot glass left on the table with the wiping towel limp and leaning against it.

 

She takes in a shuddering breath.

 

It's impossible.

 

She thinks as she walks back to her table where her date is fumbling his hands as he apologises for the millionth time for spilling his drink for the umpteenth time, blaming it on his long and clumsy hands.

 

It's just her imagination. There is no correlation between the man sitting at the table and the man behind the bar table. 

 

She doesn't see it.

 

She doesn't see how their eyes are almost the same shade of green, or how they both have soft, brown hair, or how they are both the clumsiest and most awkward creatures to ever walk the universe.

 

No. She doesn't see any resemblance.

 

She hates him. 

 

She repeats again, each time sounding more and more like a lie to comfort herself with.

 

She hates him.

 

As she sits back at the table, her date avidly nibbles her neck and jaw, going behind her ears and all her pulse points.

 

But she doesn't feel heat pooling between her legs, as this would normally bring. No, she feels ... Nothing. Just plain, bland nothingness. And when he suggests that she stays at his place for the night, she kindly declines, and kisses his on the cheeks as a goodbye.

 

She broke up with him a month later, stating it was because she wanted to focus on her studies and all that. 

 

But deep inside her heart, she knows. 

 

It isn't that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	7. How to love a god: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when he kisses you back   
> hold your breath. do not breathe.  
> you are only a small and foolish boy   
> chasing the tail of a meteor  
> destined for the heavens. if  
> you breathe, you will burn.  
> \- How to love a god  
> By: Natalie Wee// Patroclus Dreaming (via tumblr)

They just saved the world and her veins are pumping with adrenaline, her heart an erratic beat against her heaving chest. 

 

The ship lands safely and no one is injured in the process. Not a single one. And she turns to tell the Doctor of what a miracle that is, exhilaration in her blood, when she feels his lips on hers, sucking and nibbling, sweet and pliant against hers, and she just can't quite move her body, her face frozen in shock. 

 

He pulls away and licks his lips. 

 

God, she feels the heat pooling in between her legs already.

 

His expression is giddy and so full of joy, his smile so wide and his eyes dance with merriment.

 

He looks at her queer expression and adorably furrow his non-existent eyebrows, “My kissing skills haven't improved that much, has it?” His eyes glow with mischief but there is a hint of doubt lurking in his gaze.

 

“It's not that, Doctor” finally reigning the control over her body parts again, “it's just that -”

 

The realisation dawns on his face, and his once giddy expression is gone in a second, replacing it, an embarrassed and melancholy gaze.

 

“R-River, I-” He stutters, “I’m so, so, so, sorry.” His gaze is apologetic and sincere and she just can't say “no” to those eyes but she has something high on her priority list that doesn't include him being guilty about himself, “I just thought that we were, well, I mean -” the words are flowing out of his mouth, most of them apologies for being an idiot, but she doesn't hear them, they turn into muffled sounds as she focuses on how his mouth moves when he is speaking the words, every tilt of his lips and every flick of his tongue, and she just can't hold it back any -

 

“A-again, I'm not trying to force myself upon you, a-and if you feel uncomfortable, I can -”

 

She swallows his words, surging forward, kissing him with abandon. On her tip toes, her arms find her way behind his head, feeling his soft brown hair.

 

He freezes for a second before melting into the kiss, his hands finding their rightful place on her hips and hauls her towards him.

 

He slips his tongue into her mouth and she moans, grasping his short hair at the back of his head, and when she bites into his lower lip, slightly tugging and biting until it hurt just the right amount. Kissing him feels like salvation, a balm to all her sins, saying that she is forgiven forever and always. It is redemption, forgiveness from a man who has travelled through millennium, who has seen countless horrors and massacre yet find the love and tenderness to move oh so gently against her lips. It blows her mind that he forgives his murderess, no less _love her_ with such intensity that the stars themselves might burn. In that moment, she feels loved and she _is_ loved, reminded by the flavours of the universe bursting across her tongue.

 

She looks at him with blown wide eyes, and she knows if she doesn't stop now, they might just find the nearest flat surface and shag it out.

 

She pulls away first, catching her breath, her lips red and swollen and her face flushed. 

 

“Blimey.” He blinks at her as his lips chase the sudden lack of contact, his mouth slowly curls into a soft grin.

 

“Blimey is correct.” Her eyes are bright and as she toys with his hair, she gives into the temptation and finds his lips again. 


End file.
